


scum & villainy

by bulletbulletbullet



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Changlix, Banter, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Top Han Jisung | Han, Twins Hwang Hyunjin & Hwang Yeji, Under-negotiated Kink, but no one's drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletbulletbullet/pseuds/bulletbulletbullet
Summary: Though the entire group is flashy, this one is loud in every way - his dress, his manner, his voice as he bickers with the others. He screamscore planet, even more than the other three, and if he’s anything but a hacker, Minho would be stunned.Minho can’t stop looking at him, drawn to the way he moves, his eyes flashing when he talks, voice carrying through the bar with ease. He catches Minho staring, more than once, but Minho doesn’t back down, savoring the smug look that breaks out on his face each time. He’s drinking one of the fruit drinks, luridly orange in his glass, and Minho wonders how it tastes on his lips, wonders what sounds he would make if Minho tried to find out.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 20
Kudos: 135
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round Two





	scum & villainy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Minsung Bingo!  
>  **Prompts used:** au - space, one night stands, banter as flirting, sex toys, size difference.
> 
> This was supposed to be a quick and easy pwp to be my first bingo fill, since the other two wips I have for bingo were taking me longer to write than I anticipated; if you follow me on twitter, you know that it quickly spiraled out of my control with world-building and now we have this.
> 
> **A few notes:** This is clearly cobbled together from the bones of lots of different media that I love. I listened to the Slime Rancher soundtrack while I wrote most of this and I highly recommend the game if you’ve never played it before! The title is a Star Wars reference; it was the first thing I thought of when I decided to write about two morally questionable space boys (additionally taken from SW: I call the bathroom the fresher here because I couldn't think of a better space-bathroom name). I borrowed the concept of Chinese becoming a commonly used language in the nebulous far future from a space show that we’re not talking about; check the end notes for the non-romanized versions of the very sparing phrases I used and their translations. Also there are no condoms in space because they’ve cured STIs in this universe and because I said so (please practice safe sex in real life and also discuss your kinks before you sleep with someone new thanks).

Minho hates these backwater planets, even if this one is objectively beautiful, with rose and coral mountain ranges tipped in violet and plum rising into the sky and a cerulean ocean so bright it had been hard to look at when they'd flown in, the whole planet a pastel blur through their viewport, the afternoon sunlight dazzling on the water.

Hyunjin _loves_ it and keeps waxing poetic about the colors, but it's really just another outer rim rock with almost nothing to do besides finish the job they’ve been contracted for, dropping off the goods and accepting payment in the middle of nowhere, the ship tucked behind a ridge half a mile from the meeting site, a dome house so pink it almost disappears against the ground.

They make it back to the ship in one piece just before sunset, nothing having gone wrong for once, which is nothing short of a miracle. Hyunjin begs to go see the town proper, and Changbin can never tell him no, so he preps the rover, claiming he needs to pick up some supplies anyway and they may as well see if there’s anything to eat that’s better than the rations they keep on the ship and whatever’s left from their last visit to a real market three weeks ago. Yeji opts to stay behind, waving them off in a bid for the rare gift of peace and quiet on the ship, and she disappears into her bunk before they’re even gone, humming to herself.

Minho's desperate for a drink, so he agrees to go along, even though drinking whatever swill they brew here will probably kill him. Seungmin is always happy to explore, curious about the locals on every planet they visit, and he tucks his journal into his bag as they all climb onto the rover and head off, kicking up pale peach dust in their wake.

They drive past nothing for a few minutes, and then homesteads begin to crop up, Hyunjin cooing at each and every one. They pass what must be an orchard, with stubby trees in rows; the branches are silvery-grey and spiked, bare of foliage but heavy with colorful fruit of different varieties, definitely the product of some kind of genome splicing, which is surprising this far out from the core worlds. Similar ranches are visible in the distance behind it, fading out to the horizon line, the mountains rising behind them. Minho can see scrubby vegetable gardens and some livestock, and then more peachy pink houses start to pop up, closer and closer together until they make it to what must be the town center.

There’s a spaceport, which Minho knew before they arrived, but he never trusts new ports until he checks them out first. This one is small, with only a few bays, one filled with a conspicuously shiny cruiser large enough for a crew twice the size of Minho’s.

Past the port is what looks to be a general goods store butted up to a tavern, with a few rovers and similar vehicles parked out front, all about as well-loved as theirs. Changbin fits them into a spot and they all hop off, rosy dust puffing up under their boots. Based on the faded, soft-hued signage, the other buildings are an inn and a medic and what looks to be a shipping depo/hardware store hybrid and some sort of government building, though whatever government this planet has is probably loose at best.

Hyunjin tugs on Changbin’s wrist, gesturing in the direction of what looks like a night market being set up; several small stalls are being erected and someone is hanging a rainbow of paper lanterns between the buildings. A girl bustles by with crates full of the fruits they’d driven past, and a sweet smell follows her. Minho’s not sure when any of his crew last had fresh fruit, and he’s sorely tempted to join Hyunjin in his quest to get some, even though the market clearly isn’t open yet.

“ _Xīngān_ ,” Changbin says, brushing Hyunjin’s hair out of his eyes, “they’re not even ready yet. Why don’t we find some dinner first?” Seungmin chuckles when Hyunjin slumps in defeat and lets Changbin lead their little group into the tavern.

There’s a bar along one wall, with more options than Minho thought they would have, including several large glass canisters with spouts, housing what must be infusions made from the various local fruits based on their vivid contents. Worn wooden tables fill the rest of the space, coupled with mismatched chairs and benches. The bartender nods in greeting and Changbin points out a table in the corner, set as far from the door as possible - they all know Minho prefers to have his back to the wall when they’re somewhere new (or anywhere at all, really).

Seungmin and Hyunjin head to the table while Minho and Changbin sidle up to the bar to order. They carry the drinks to the corner after the bartender lets them know their food will be out soon, sticking her head through a curtained doorway to yell their order to whoever is in the kitchen.

They’re just tucking into dinner when a group of people walks through the front door, clearly not from this planet or one nearby. Minho knows immediately that they belong to the ostentatious ship they’d seen in the port; they’re so flashy it’s almost funny. Either they’re really good at what they do - which is surely similar to what Minho and his crew do - or they have enough funding that they don’t need to worry about it.

Most of the group chooses a table near the door while the man who must be their captain goes up to the bar, smiling a charming, dimpled smile at the bartender.

Minho studies the group as he works his way through the rest of his meal, the chatter of his own crew comforting white noise. There’s the captain; sitting tucked into his side is a boy with silvery hair curling down the back of his neck, his skin covered in freckles. Minho would hazard that he’s their medic, though he’s not sure why beyond the neatness of his clothing and something about his manner, and he only glimpses his face in profile, his back to the corner that Minho’s crew is in. Across the table from those two, on the other bench, is a young man with dark hair and sharp eyes - his grin is sharp, too, when it tugs at his mouth. He’s playing with a balisong, almost mindlessly, and Minho doesn’t need to speculate on his role at all.

At the head of the table, splayed in a chair with one booted foot resting on a bench, is the last piece of the puzzle. He’s probably around Hyunjin and Seungmin’s age - actually, their whole crew looks to be around the same age as Minho’s ragtag group, if he had to guess. Though the entire group is flashy, this one is _loud_ in every way - his dress, his manner, his voice as he bickers with the others. His hair is an inky blue, flopping over his forehead, and though he looks small, he holds himself with the confidence of someone much more broad. His clothes are so bright - a leather jacket so yellow it hurts to look at, neon boots covered in scrawling symbols of every color - and he’s covered in jewelry, silver rings glinting on every finger and looped through both ears, a black leather band around his neck and silver chains wrapping around one wrist. He screams _core planet_ , even more than the other three, and if he’s anything but a hacker, Minho would be stunned.

Minho can’t stop looking at him, drawn to the way he moves, his eyes flashing when he talks, voice carrying through the bar with ease. He catches Minho staring, more than once, but Minho doesn’t back down, savoring the smug look that breaks out on his face each time. He’s drinking one of the fruit drinks, luridly orange in his glass, and Minho wonders how it tastes on his lips, wonders what sounds he would make if Minho tried to find out.

Changbin and Hyunjin finish eating first, and they settle the group’s tab before they leave, Hyunjin practically dragging Changbin out the door towards the market. Seungmin is done, too, but he’s writing in his journal, the scratching of his pen familiar as Minho picks at the last few bites on his plate.

He’s still watching the hacker, and the hacker is still watching him, his movements exaggerated as he eats his dinner, teeth closing around his chopsticks playfully, tongue darting out to lick his lips after every sip of his drink.

Seungmin has seen it all, of course, but he’s smart enough not to say anything about it, closing his journal and tucking it away before he finally turns to look at Minho. “Do you want me to get anything from the market for you, _gēgē_?”

“Bring some fruit back for Yeji, and enough to last us for a week or two. See if they have anything preserved. That would be better. If we need anything else, Changbin knows, I’m sure he has a list.” Seungmin nods, and then he’s gone, leaving Minho alone at the table.

Minho leans back against the wall and kicks his feet up, resting them on the chair Hyunjin had vacated - and then he waits. Maybe they’ll all finish eating and get up and leave and Minho will find his crew at the market and that will be that. But there’s something telling him to stay, the cocky glint in the hacker’s eyes making him think it will be worth it. He’s tired and lonely and sick of missing the inner rim and he wants someone to fuck it all out of him; he’s pretty sure this is the right guy for the job.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The other crew finishes eating and climbs up and out of their seats, all except for hacker boy, who’s staring at Minho unabashedly, that smug grin tugging at his mouth again. The captain and his partner, still attached at the hip, head to the bar to pay. The enforcer follow’s the hacker’s line of sight and raises his eyebrows when he sees Minho, leaning back and sipping at the last of his whisky.

“Don’t do anything stupid, _xiǎo tāngyuán_ ,” he says, loud enough for Minho to hear, pinching the hacker’s plump cheek between two fingers; Minho snorts at the nickname, and the hacker flushes bright enough for Minho to see it from across the room.

Minho finishes his drink and sets his glass down; hacker boy does the same, his pink tongue darting out temptingly, and Minho’s patience evaporates. He tilts his head towards the door in an unspoken question, and the hacker licks his lips again, eyes lidded as he watches Minho stand.

He makes it out the door and approximately three steps away from the building before a hand encircles his wrist from behind, the chill of the silver rings a sharp contrast to the heat of fingertips on his skin. Minho lets himself be tugged between the general store and the barricade that surrounds the port, and then the hacker pushes him up against the wall and kisses him, fingers still bruisingly tight on his wrist. Hacker boy knows what he’s doing with his mouth, and Minho parts his lips and lets him take what he wants, his tongue sliding along Minho’s teeth and slipping along the roof of his mouth. His lips are sticky-sweet from his drink, the unfamiliar citrus making Minho’s head spin as he sucks at the stranger’s tongue.

They seem to realize they’re only feet away from potential foot traffic at the same time - the hacker pulls back, panting, his lips pink and wet with spit.

“Are we going to stand here staring at each other all night, or are you going to take me back to your big shiny ship and fuck me?”

The hacker laughs, and then his mouth splits into a heart-shaped grin. “Shit, I knew I liked you for a reason. At least tell a guy your name first.”

Minho lifts one eyebrow. “Do you need to know my name to fuck me?” He slips a hand under the hacker’s jacket, seeking skin, reveling in the little shiver he gets in response when his fingertips find the hem of his shirt. The hacker presses closer, nosing at Minho’s cheek before his lips find Minho’s ear.

“No, but you’ll need to know mine so you know what to scream.” He nips at Minho’s ear, teeth tugging at his earlobe, and then pulls back, leering. “Just tell me your name, baby.”

Minho sighs, but relents. “Minho.”

“Jisung,” the hacker replies, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Was that so hard?”

“No,” Minho snipes back, pushing his hips forward and smirking when Jisung gasps at the contact - they’re both already more than a little affected just from kissing. “But _that_ is.”

“You’re so vulgar.”

“You like it.”

Jisung’s response is a pleased hum, and then he’s pulling Minho back out of the narrow alleyway to lead him into the port.

A bored-looking attendant sits in the booth, but he doesn’t look up from the outdated tablet he’s using. A man fueling up a ship even smaller and dingier than Minho’s ignores them as well, too focused on the staticky screen of the ancient fuel kiosk to notice them rush by.

The cruiser is even more obnoxious up close, all of it’s paneling gleaming and pristine, nary a dent or smudge, and certainly no rust. They bypass the main cargo hatch, and Jisung presses his wrist to a built-in scanner to open the access hatch and then again for the interior airlock. Minho stares as Jisung leads him through the ship, past the immaculately organized cargo hold, through the plushly appointed galley and down a hallway that’s just as sterile and spotless as everything else he’s seen. Minho misses a lot of things about life on a core planet, but this feeling of cold, impersonal perfection is not one of them.

Jisung stops in front of what must be the door to his bunk; he scans his wrist one last time before the door slides open with a muted sound, and Minho almost sighs in relief. Not that it really matters - he’s just here for a good time - but unlike the rest of the ship, Jisung’s bunk has personality, maybe as much as the man himself.

The sizeable cabin is split in two, half workspace and half bedroom; a built-in desk takes up much of the space, and it’s absolutely covered in monitors and crawling with cables of every color that Minho wouldn’t know the first thing about, but he’s sure Yeji would pay dearly to get her hands on this setup for even a few minutes. Little indicator lights flicker in a rainbow of colors, blinking in the low light of the dimmed glow panels set into the ceiling. More monitors are mounted on the wall above the desk, though all of them are off except for one, which seems to be showing a basic overview of the system’s health and performance, at least as far as Minho can tell.

Every wall is covered in ephemera; a brightly colored tapestry hangs over what Minho assumes is a porthole on the wall opposite the door, and the rest of the space is covered with posters and holo-prints for movies and musicians and who-knows-what-else. There’s built-in storage everywhere, and Minho’s mildly jealous for a moment - sometimes new ships have their benefits.

The bed isn’t huge, but it’s large enough, at least by ship standards, tucked into an alcove in the wall. The sheets are black, but the bed is covered in a mess of colorful pillows, a few pieces of discarded clothing piled at one end. Jisung lets go of Minho’s hand to pull the clothes off the bed, dropping them on top of several pairs of boots that are laying on the ground in front of a closed storage compartment that spans the height of the bunk, probably a closet.

Jisung sits on the edge of the bed and leans back, legs spread as he grins at Minho. Minho looks back blandly, blinking like he doesn’t know what Jisung wants.

The hacker breaks the silence first. “What are you waiting for - an invitation?”

“Fuck you,” Minho snipes, biting back a smile.

“Ah, _yīngtáo_ ,” comes Jisung’s quick reply, “I think the goal is to fuck _you_.”

Minho wonders if Jisung expects him to drop to his knees, but he wants to kiss him some more, until they’re both gasping for air, until he can’t taste citrus on Jisung’s lips because he’s licked it all away, so he climbs into Jisung’s lap and does just that, pressing their lips together and grinding down when Jisung’s hands grip his ass.

Though his arms and legs are slender, much slimmer than Minho’s thick thighs and sturdy biceps, Jisung’s hands are surprisingly strong, and he uses them to move Minho just how he wants, guiding him while they kiss so that Jisung can rut up against him. Minho _loves_ it - loves relinquishing control in this one aspect of his life when he’s so staunch in every other way, and the thought of this tiny little hacker being in control of him has him feeling lightheaded.

He finds the zipper on Jisung’s jacket and tugs it down, tucking his hands inside to settle at the curve of his narrow waist. Jisung’s hands tighten on Minho’s ass and Minho groans into the kiss, his fingers flexing weakly; he can feel Jisung smiling against his mouth.

Jisung shrugs his jacket off and tosses it off of the bed, and then he flips them over, pinning Minho under him on the bed. Minho moans louder, and Jisung pulls back to look at him, his eyes knowing, his grin widening. He slides his hands out from under Minho and grabs his wrists - Minho goes pliant and lets Jisung pin his hands to the bed by his head.

“You like that, huh?” Jisung’s tone goes straight to Minho’s head, his hips bucking up involuntarily. “You’re so strong, but you really just want someone to throw you around and treat you like a little toy, don’t you?” It’s not really a question, but Minho nods anyway, completely enraptured.

The hacker wastes no time ridding Minho of his clothes; Minho lies obediently still on the sheets, keeping his hands next to his head the entire time. Jisung keeps his own clothes on, his booted steps heavy as he moves around, his leanly muscled arms visible now that his jacket is gone, leaving him in a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his slim biceps. A tattoo of a snake winds down out of one sleeve, wrapping around his arm, bold red and purple and blue against the warm tone of his skin. Minho wants to touch it, longs to run his tongue along the ink under Jisung’s skin. Maybe Jisung will let him if he asks nicely.

Minho watches intently as Jisung crouches down to pull open a concealed compartment in the base of the bed, his gut clenching almost painfully when a coil of indigo rope is dropped onto the bed next to him. Jisung sets several other items down on a narrow ledge that runs along the wall and pushes the compartment shut with his boot.

Jisung leans over him, a wicked little smile pulling at his lips. “You’re being _so_ good,” he says, stroking a hand over Minho’s face, savoring Minho’s shiver at his words, “but I like to make sure my toys do what they’re told.” Jisung studies him carefully, and Minho knows that he’s seeking permission - Minho nods, absolutely certain.

Pleased, Jisung kisses Minho roughly before climbing up onto the bed and settling his weight on Minho’s chest. He hardly weighs anything, but Minho relaxes and lets himself be pushed down into the mattress, closing his eyes and letting himself just _feel_ . Jisung pulls both of his wrists up over his head and binds them together with the cording, nimble fingers making quick work of what feels like a complicated tie. Once Jisung is satisfied with his handiwork, he uses the remaining length of rope to attach Minho’s hands to _something_ \- when Minho opens his eyes and tilts his head back, he can see that the cord is looped through a steel hitching ring inset into the wall above the bed. He tugs, lightly, testing the knots; Jisung clearly knows what he’s doing, and Minho smiles, dropping his head back onto the mattress.

Jisung runs his hands from Minho’s wrists down his arms, fingers light and teasing, until he gets to Minho’s chest where his progress is hindered by his own thighs. “Good?” His cocky grin almost hides the fact that he’s genuinely asking, but Minho smiles up at him and nods again.

He scoots back, then, lifting himself up and settling on top of Minho’s thighs, denying Minho the pleasure of having him where Minho so desperately wants him, if the way his cock is twitching against his abdomen is any indication. Jisung’s hands brush over his nipples and then slide down his stomach to rest on his hip bones, the contrast between the smooth bands of his rings and his calloused fingertips sending a little thrill up Minho’s spine.

Jisung licks his lips, studying Minho like he’s prey, and Minho can’t help but shudder. “Look at you,” Jisung says, voice rough, fingertips digging into Minho’s skin. “You’re so worked up, and I’ve barely touched you. You like being tied up that much?” Minho’s cock jumps, dripping precum onto his stomach and Jisung laughs. “Baby likes giving up control and being at my mercy,” he adds, voice full of dark glee, and Minho wonders how he managed to find someone who meshes with him so well on this nothing rock in the middle of nowhere.

Fingers dance back up Minho’s chest to his nipples, and he has to fight to stay still underneath Jisung’s weight on his thighs. Jisung circles a blunt fingernail around one nipple as he leans down, huffing hot breath over the other before his tongue darts out to flick at it. He pulls Minho’s nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling over it slickly before he latches on with his teeth, tugging just hard enough that Minho hisses. He kisses and sucks his way across Minho’s chest before repeating the process on Minho’s other nipple, pulling off to laugh when Minho’s hips jerk on the bed.

“Are you sensitive, _yīngtáo_?” It’s another not-question, just meant to rile Minho up further, and it works. Jisung continues to tease him with his mouth and his fingers until Minho’s nipples are pink and puffy, until Minho is twitching and gasping, his mouth open as he pants.

Jisung sits up and shifts his weight so that he can reach whatever he’s left just outside of Minho’s field of vision - he comes back with a silver chain in hand, and it takes Minho’s lust-addled mind a minute to catch up. Jisung attaches the clamps to Minho’s nipples, first one and then the other; Minho arches under his touch and cries out when Jisung tugs on the chain.

“ _Fuck_.”

Jisung smiles at that. “You’ve been so quiet, baby, I forgot how dirty your mouth is.” Jisung tugs on the chain again, chuckling when Minho moans wantonly. “You make such pretty noises - I can’t wait to hear what you sound like when I fuck you.”

“I promise you I’ll be louder if you speed it up,” Minho tries, voice breathy, even though he knows it won’t work.

“Don’t rush me.” Jisung leans down, pressing his lips to Minho’s and kissing him slowly - Minho chases his mouth when he pulls away, the cord around his wrists digging into his skin. “So _needy_ ,” Jisung chides, but he’s still smiling. He sits up, resting his full weight on Minho’s thighs as he starts to pull the rings off of the fingers of his right hand, moving them to the left and stacking them on top of the ones he’s already wearing there.

Jewelry adjusted, he picks more items up off of the ledge and slides further down the bed, pressing Minho’s thighs apart so that he can kneel between them. Minho flushes as Jisung just stares at him, but he holds himself still and lets him look until Minho thinks he’s going to combust if Jisung doesn’t touch him. Minho closes his eyes and tries to relax, but it’s futile, his consciousness entirely narrowed to the throbbing between his legs and Jisung’s quiet breathing, just barely audible over the ship’s ambient noise.

Firm hands wrap around Minho’s ankles; he lets Jisung bend his knees, angling Minho just how he wants him. A bottle snaps open and Minho has to fight to keep from pleading, willing himself to be docile, to take what Jisung is willing to give him.

Minho doesn’t expect Jisung’s slick hand to wrap around his cock and _squeeze_ , and he jolts on the bed, tugging at his restraints and letting loose a stream of curses as Jisung laughs, clearly enjoying his reaction. He forces himself to calm back down, slowing his breathing until he’s able to open his eyes and meet Jisung’s pleased gaze. Jisung relaxes his grip and then tightens it again, tensing and releasing, over and over until Minho breaks.

“ _Please_.” His voice is strained, and he drops his head back down again, letting the hot shame of having to beg wash over him.

Jisung’s hand stops and retreats, one slippery fingertip trailing over Minho’s balls to circle his rim. “Please _what_ , baby?”

The teasing just serves to make him more pliant, and he lets himself slacken, slumping against the sheets, though he can’t keep his frustration from leaking into his tone. “Please _fuck me_ before I lose my goddamned mind.”

“Ah, _bǎobǎo_ , all you had to do was ask.”

“As if you didn’t kn—” Minho’s sniping response is cut off with a choked moan when Jisung presses a finger into him. “ _Fuck_!”

Jisung strokes along his walls slowly, leisurely; it’s obvious that he’s drawing it out just for fun, but it feels so good that Minho doesn’t mind being tormented a little bit. He finds Minho’s prostate easily and presses his fingertip into it, just enough to make Minho’s thighs shake, more precum pooling on his stomach. A second finger joins the first, eased by the more-than-ample amount of lube Jisung is using, and Minho struggles to keep his hips still, desperate for more. It’s been too long since anyone has touched him like this - so long he doesn’t even want to think about it - and though Jisung’s hands are hardly any bigger than his own, his fingers feel _incredible_ , filling Minho up and stretching him out in a way that feels impossible when he’s alone in his own bunk with only his own hands for company.

Minho doesn’t notice Jisung’s other hand leaving his ankle, too caught up in his own pleasure to hear a low buzzing sound join the hum of the ship’s systems around them. He doesn’t register any of it until the knuckles of Jisung’s left hand, covered in all of his rings, brush over the underside Minho’s cock, and then he presses something against Minho’s frenulum - something _vibrating_ , and Minho spasms on the bed, keening high in his throat.

Jisung pulls his hand back and stills his fingers inside of Minho, watching him placidly as Minho blinks at him, dazed, mouth opening and closing like he wants to speak but has no idea what to say.

He tries to shift his hips in a bid to get Jisung to move his fingers again, but Jisung just smiles at him, bringing the vibrator back to Minho’s cock instead, barely grazing him, running the tip of the toy along his length. Minho’s cock twitches, red and angry, and he hisses a curse under his breath before Jisung pulls away again.

“Fuck, Jisung, _please_.”

Jisung’s fingers move, just barely, ghosting over Minho’s prostate, making him tremble as he fights to stay still. “Are you going to be good?”

Minho nods jerkily. He’ll do whatever Jisung wants if Jisung will just _move_.

“Since you like me being in control so much,” Jisung starts, voice amused, making Minho’s heart race, “you don’t get to come until I tell you to.” Minho’s breath speeds up, and he knows Jisung can feel him clenching involuntarily around his fingers at this turn of events. “Understand?”

“Yes, _yes_ , oh god _please_ —”

Jisung works him open like they’re lovers, not strangers, with a keen sense of Minho’s body that’s almost unsettling. He takes his time, adding a third finger and nudging the little vibrator against the head of Minho’s cock, pulling it away any time he decides Minho is too close to the edge. Minho tries to stay still, feet planted on the bed on either side of Jisung; it’s a valiant effort, but Jisung teases him until he can’t control himself, thighs shaking, hands tugging futilely at the rope, back arching off of the bed as he cries out.

Once Minho’s stretched enough, Jisung pulls away both of his hands, and Minho’s not sure if he’s sighing at the loss or at the momentary relief.

The buzzing stops as he turns off the vibrator and drops it onto the sheets. He’s still dressed, but Minho likes it, something about making him feel even smaller, even more like he’s just here for Jisung’s amusement, to be controlled and used how the other man pleases. Jisung unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down to his thighs and Minho’s mouth waters - he’s _big_ , bigger than Minho, and it makes him ache with how empty he feels.

Jisung grips Minho’s hips with both hands and flips him over - there’s enough slack in the rope to allow it, and Minho tucks his knees under himself, his chest pressed against the blankets, shifting restlessly as he waits for Jisung’s touch, the clamps tugging at his nipples just enough as they rub against the bed.

He cups Minho’s ass with both hands, squeezing and making a pleased sound low in his throat. “You’re so pretty, baby, I wish you could see how _good_ you look all spread open for me.” His thumbs brush Minho’s rim on either side, tugging him open, watching as he clenches around nothing. “I should just keep you here forever, tied up and ready for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Minho can’t help but moan brokenly into the pillows, the sound loud enough to bounce off of the steel paneling of the bunk. “Fuck,” Jisung says, sounding a little bit dazed, “I think I love you.” Minho’s responding laugh is cut off as Jisung finally presses the head of his cock against his hole.

“Oh _fuck_ , Jisung.” Minho writhes against the sheets as Jisung inches forward, pulling uselessly at the cord around his wrists, hissing when the nipple clamps drag against the bed again. Jisung bottoms out, his hands tightening on Minho’s hips as they both adjust. “Move,” he pants out, jerking when Jisung rolls his hips.

“What was that, baby?”

“ _Please_ move,” Minho cries, completely gone, and Jisung pulls all the way out and slams back in _hard_ , fingers digging into Minho’s skin. They moan in unison, volume growing as Jisung sets a brutal pace, too worked up to tease Minho any more.

It’s all too much - Jisung fucking him hard and deep, his hands bruising on Minho’s skin, the filthy sound of their bodies coupled with the way Jisung is grunting as he thrusts. It feels so good, even the pull of the rope on his wrists and the stretch in his shoulders and the pleasant sting of the nipple clamps; Minho knows he’s going to be beyond sore tomorrow, but it’s worth it, letting Jisung wreck him so completely.

He’s not sure how long he’s going to last, not when Jisung toyed with him for so long first, but the hacker must be close too - he slows down, thrusting shallowly for a few moments before pulling out. Minho whines pitifully at the loss, until Jisung flips him back over, leaning up to make sure the rope isn’t tangled before he settles back between Minho’s legs.

Jisung nudges himself back inside and presses forward slowly, eyes sharp on Minho’s face, watching his mouth drop open as he slides home. He pulls back and pushes in again, his pace almost leisurely; one hand leaves Minho’s waist to slide up his chest, tugging at the chain between Minho’s nipples until he cries out, a high broken mewl that has Jisung’s cock twitching where he’s buried inside of Minho.

He lets go of the chain and pulls his hand back, wrapping his fingers around Minho’s thighs and pushing against them, folding Minho’s legs up to his chest so that he can fuck into him even deeper. Jisung gives up on his languid rhythm soon enough, and Minho tries to cant his hips up, attempting to meet his thrusts even though Jisung has him pinned soundly to the bed.

It doesn’t take long for Jisung’s vigorous thrusts to turn sloppy, his hips stuttering as he uses Minho’s body to chase his orgasm. He lets go of Minho’s legs, and Minho wraps them around Jisung’s hips instantly, the only way to urge him closer with his arms bound. Jisung leans down, hands planted on the bed on either side of Minho, hips slamming into him. He presses their lips together clumsily, licking into Minho’s mouth - it’s messy, barely a kiss, but Minho doesn’t care, too far gone to do anything but respond just as enthusiastically, tongue tangling with Jisung’s as he tightens his legs around the hacker’s waist.

Jisung pulls away to lean back up, grabbing at Minho’s ass and rutting into him until he comes with a sharp cry; he wraps his hand around Minho’s cock and strokes him roughly.

“Alright, _bǎobǎo_ , come on,” he rasps. “Come for me.” That’s all it takes for Minho’s orgasm to slam into him like an asteroid, back bowing as he cries Jisung’s name.

It takes him a few minutes to come back to himself; Jisung unties him carefully, discarding the rope and rubbing gently at Minho’s wrists for a moment before he cleans them both up and drops back onto the bed, curling himself into Minho’s side.

Minho lets him lie there until his heart rate returns to normal, letting the blood flow back into his hands and taking stock of the state of the rest of his body. He’s tired, but he feels good - really good, actually, though he knows he’s going to end up asking Changbin to pilot them offworld in the morning so he doesn’t have to.

He sits up eventually, ignoring the pout on Jisung’s face when he climbs off of the bed and pulls his clothes back on. He’s leaning against the mattress, lacing his boots back up when Jisung speaks, his voice quiet, a stark change from his behavior since the first time Minho laid eyes on him.

“What’s your call sign?”

Minho sighs, finishing the knot on one boot before he moves to the other. “Who’s needy now?”

“Still you,” Jisung says, though it’s lacking bite. “C’mon, just tell me.”

It’s pointless, the likelihood of their crossing paths again beyond _slim_ and well into _none_ , and Minho doesn’t want to get the hacker’s hopes up, but he looks so small, suddenly, perched on the bed, staring at Minho with his big round eyes until it feels impossible to deny him. Minho finishes with his boots and stands, tugging his coat back on. “It’s sierra-delta-delta-ten-twenty-five,” he says, and Jisung gasps.

“You’re—”

Minho ignores him, pressing the panel next to the door so that it opens, and Jisung scrambles to keep up with him as he makes his way back through the galley so he can leave.

“Holy _shit_ ,” comes Jisung’s awed whisper from behind him, almost drowned out by the noise of his boots on the floor panels, “you’re _Lee Know_.”

Minho waits until they make it through the cargo bay to the airlock to stop, turning to look at Jisung, who’s staring at him like he hung the moon. “And if I am?”

“Holy shit,” Jisung says again, and Minho can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. “You’re _infamous_.”

“I’m _wanted_ \- there’s a difference,” Minho replies with a roll of his eyes. “I have to go.” Jisung pouts at that, and Minho indulges him (because why the hell not), leaning in and kissing him goodbye. He pulls away and opens the airlock, and Jisung follows him to the access hatch, watching Minho with wide eyes as he opens it and steps out. The sun has long since set, blanketing the little town in darkness, the only light coming from the glow panels and blinking lights of the port, casting a halo of incandescent light out of the bays and onto the ground.

“I know you’re not docked here,” Jisung says behind him, and Minho pauses. “Let me drive you back to your ship, at least.” He hesitates - drawing this out is a bad idea, but so is walking several miles across an unfamiliar planet in the middle of the night, so he gives in, turning around to nod and moving out of the way to let Jisung lower the cargo ramp.

The quad Jisung eases onto the dirt is just as sparkly and new as the ship, meant for two people instead of four, even though Minho knows he’d seen a larger model rover in the cargo bay, parked beside this one. Jisung hops off and goes back into the ship to close the ramp; when he gets back onto the quad, he lifts his chin, his trademark cocky grin back on his face.

“Hop on, baby.”

Minho scoffs but climbs on, slipping onto the seat behind Jisung and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Jisung pulls out of the port slowly before turning on the headlights. Minho rests his chin on Jisung’s shoulder and murmurs directions into his ear, telling himself it’s so that he can be heard over the rumble of the quad’s engine and not for any other reason. Goosebumps form on Jisung’s exposed arms, and Minho wonders if it’s just because of the chill in the air now that it’s full dark.

The quartz-halogen headlights cast bright, cool beams onto the ground, turning the dust they kick up into a lilac cloud around them as they drive past the houses and the farms and the orchard. Minho stops Jisung just before the ridge where the ship is hidden and slips off of the quad.

They stare at each other silently for a moment, and then Jisung is climbing down before Minho can stop him, tugging him close and kissing him again. It’s soft - too soft - and Minho aches, mad at himself. He should have walked.

“I really have to go,” he says, pulling back, but he’s hesitant to let go of Jisung’s waist. Jisung seems to know as much, smiling smugly at him.

“Then go.”

Minho lets go and takes one step back, and then another before he turns away. “Goodbye, Jisung.”

“Han Jisung,” Jisung calls from behind him.

“Goodbye, Han Jisung.”

Minho doesn’t look back, and he finally hears the quad start up and pull away once he’s over the top of the ridge.

_Soonie_ is waiting for him, her onboard lighting casting a warm glow out of the windows as he approaches the airlock to let himself inside.

They’re supposed to be leaving at sun up - they have another job to do, just like they always do - but Minho hears voices in the galley. He has to pass through to get to the crew quarters, and he’s glad it’s just Seungmin and Changbin going over something on a datapad at the dining table, knowing the twins would hoot at him and press him for details.

Seungmin ignores him as he passes by, but Changbin’s eyes track his movement and he laughs to himself under his breath. “Want me to fly us out in the morning, _gēgē_?” Minho flips him off without looking at him, and Changbin’s laugh gets louder. “Goodnight, Min.”

Minho makes it to his bunk, stopping by the fresher first to clean up; he strips down and drops onto his mattress with a heavy sigh. He should probably be in the galley with his crew, discussing their next job, but he’s exhausted, and he trusts them to have everything ironed out.

Still, Minho is nothing if not a perfectionist, and he rifles around in the sheets until he finds his tablet, pulling it out with the intention of going over their notes until he passes out. He lets the familiar sounds of _Soonie_ ’s air circulation system wash over him as he reads, until his eyes grow heavy. Minho forces himself up out of the bed to set his tablet on the charger on his desk, and then he uses the panel by the door to turn off all of his lights one by one, blanketing his bunk in darkness.

He curls back up on the sheets and closes his eyes, and lets himself think about it - think about picking his tablet back up and searching for Jisung, just to see what he can find. It would be pointless, and he resists, tugging his blankets tighter around himself.

Besides, Minho thinks to himself as he drifts off, Yeji will be able to find out far more than Minho would alone, and she’ll do it much quicker, too.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Glossary of Chinese phrases:**  
>  Xīngān / 心肝 - literally “heart and liver,” a term of endearment used for someone very precious to you  
> Gēgē / 哥哥 - older brother, can be used for older male friends similar to Korean “hyung”  
> Xiǎo tāngyuán / 小汤圆 - little dumpling  
> Yīngtáo / 樱桃 - cherry  
> Bǎobǎo / 宝宝 - literally "baby", pretty cheesy when used as an endearment but I think it fits Jisung here
> 
> If any of this is incorrect at all please let me know!! Everything was snagged off of the internet with a little bit of research and a dm to a friend who speaks some Mandarin.
> 
> And of course Minho's ship is named _Soonie_ , and his call sign is an easter egg too.
> 
> Come yell at me on twitter (nsfw) [@bulletfic](https://twitter.com/bulletfic) ♡


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